


The Christmas Planet

by elderkevinmckinley



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas, F/F, Getting Together, Girls Kissing, Holiday Fic Exchange, Mistletoe, Monster of the Week, holograms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 06:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17136776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elderkevinmckinley/pseuds/elderkevinmckinley
Summary: When the Doctor brings Yaz, Ryan, and Graham to a planet that technically shouldn't exist, they end up getting more than they bargained for.





	The Christmas Planet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oovoojaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oovoojaver/gifts).



> Wrote this for @beaniebopp on Tumblr for the Thasmin gift exchange! I am so sorry I didn't have more time to flesh this out, due to the deadline, but I hope you like it!

“Well, this certainly is _festive_ , isn’t it?” The Doctor claps her hands together as she steps out of the TARDIS. “Come on out, gang—you’re gonna _love_ this one.”

"Festive?" As Yaz steps out of the blue box, the scenery surrounding them quickly steals her breath away. "Oh, _wow._ "

The TARDIS’s computer had been unable to identify this planet, which is curious since the TARDIS’s memory banks contain nearly every star chart and planetary map known to the Time Lords. Yet, according to all known maps in the database, this planet simply _doesn't exist_. But it has to exist, since they're literally standing on it now. Yaz figures this mystery must be why the TARDIS brought them here in the first place. It always has a reason, even if that reason isn't always clear straight away.

The first thing Yaz notices about this planet is that everything in sight is covered by a clean layer of white snow, including the mountains she can see far off in the distance. Barren trees surround them on all sides, each and every one of their branches delicately topped with snow, icicles hanging down from their tips. Bright, multi-colored Christmas lights twist around every tree, every branch. It looks downright miraculous, a true winter wonderland. How could anyone have strung up lights on every _single_ tree? It just doesn't make any _sense,_ but the preposterous nature of this planet doesn't have the power to diminish it's beauty. 

It's simply _stunning_ , Yaz thinks, as she takes a good look around. Absolutely _stunning_.

The Doctor glances up toward sky, where the stars glitter brilliantly in the dark. Snowflakes make their way down from the clouds, lazy and slow, nipping at their noses. “Nice, isn’t it?”

“ _Nice_?” Yaz begins make her way through the snow, her thick black boots making _crunch_ sounds as she walks. “Stunningly _beautiful_ is more like it.”

“Boy, it certainly is _brisk_ on this planet, ain’t it?” Graham steps out of the TARDIS behind Yaz, quickly tightening up his scarf and scrubbing his gloved hands together. “I reckon you’ve been here before, Doc?”

“Nope, never been,” the Doctor says, and Yaz can see that familiar _sparkle_ dancing over her eyes. “This is my first time on this planet.” She lifts her arms high above her head and twirls around in the snow. “I’ve been to thousands of planets in hundreds of systems and I’ll tell you something, Graham: there’s _nothing_ quite like stepping onto a brand new one for the very first time.”

“Really?” Ryan smirks as he follows suit out of the TARDIS, closing the door behind him. “I didn’t think there was a planet left you haven't seen.”

“Oh, come now, Ryan, don’t give me that much credit. There are still plenty of planets out there I haven’t seen. Billions, actually.” The Doctor closes her eyes for a moment and lets out a deep breath, all of the moisture freezing upon hitting the frigid cold air. “There are billions upon billions upon _billions_ of planets out there in the universe and I’ve only just _begun_ to scratch the surface.”

As the group wanders around the area to take a look at their new surroundings, Yaz’s gaze lands upon a distant snow-laden trail. There's a rickety old fence lining both sides, adorned with strings of twinkling blue and green lights. A curious slew of recently-laid footprints dot the trail, winding all the way up a large hill, atop of which sits a rather quaint-looking village. The houses atop the hill are all illuminated in the distance; the roofs, laden with snow, huffing and puffing smoke out their chimneys. Smattered along the snowy hills are facsimiles of giant candy canes, gingerbread men, and lollipops, all bright colored and inviting. The scene looks _perfect_ , almost like the cover of a Christmas card.

“Look, Doctor." Yaz points in the direction of the trail. “There’s a path, just over there, leading up to some kind of town or village or something.”

“Oh, goody, a _path_ ,” the Doctor practically squeals. “I _love_ a path. Let’s follow it, shall we? See where it leads.”

Before the others even have a chance to respond, the Doctor is already running off, making a dash through the thick blanket of snow. It doesn’t seem to slow her down one bit, Yaz thinks with a hidden smile. The Doctor is sort of magical like that, frolicking and twirling around amidst the falling snow, legs and arms jutted out every which way, her blonde hair blowing around wildly in the wind.

“Why is it we always have to run?” Ryan jokes as the three of them take off at high speeds after the Doctor. “Seems like no matter where we go, she always makes us run.”

“Look on the bright side, Ryan,” Yaz smiles, quickening her pace to keep up with the Doctor; “at least we don’t need to worry about gaining any weight, eh?”

“Speak for yourself, young lady." Graham holds up a sandwich. “I don’t plan on losing a single _ounce_ on these journeys, thank you very much.”

“What’d you bring this time, Grandad?”

“Oh, just an old classic," Graham says, sounding quite pleased with himself as he slides the sandwich back into his pocket. “Peanut butter and jam on white bread with bits of banana stuffed in between.”

“Mmmm.” Yaz’s eyes light up. “That sounds amazin’.”

“Come on, gang, keep up!” The Doctor shouts from a few yards away, her blonde hair whipping around in the wind. “We haven’t got all night!”

“We have a bloody _time machine_ , for crying out loud,” Graham huffs, visibly struggling to sprint up the hill. “We have all the time in the world!”

“Right, but I want to get _explorin’_.” The Doctor’s eyes are big and green and excited and whenever the Doctor's eyes look like that, Yaz finds it impossible to tame her smile. “According to all known maps and star charts, this planet shouldn’t even _exist_. The TARDIS must have brought us here for a reason and I’m just itching to find out what it is.”

The Doctor’s eyes are twinkling again and Yaz always tries her hardest not to feel things whenever the Doctor’s eyes twinkle like that. Mainly because of her family. She knows her mum would have a _fit_ if she ever found out her daughter was thinking about a _woman_ in—well, in _that_ way. Or maybe not. It's all very confusing because her mum is awfully accepting of _other people_ in same-sex relationships _,_  but Yaz isn’t sure how she’ll react when it comes to her own _daughter_ liking a woman. But, then again, the Doctor is so much more than a woman, isn’t she? She is so, _so_ much more than that. Hell, she’s regenerated bodies at least ten or twelve times before and Earth isn’t even her home planet.

 _Earth isn’t even her home planet_ , Yaz reminds herself with a sigh. _The Doctor isn’t even human_.

It seems as though she’s always having to remind her of this, mainly because the Doctor doesn’t _feel_ any more alien to Yaz than her gran or her mum or her sister.

But the Doctor is, in every sense of the word, an alien.

Yaz knows this fact, but the problem is that it’s so easy to forget that bit of information, to let it slip out of her mind like the fuzziness of a fading dream. The Doctor’s kind eyes and infectious laugh and warm smile and thirst for knowledge make it so _easy_ to forget that and, yet, even whenever Yaz _does_ manage to remember, it never seems to matter. A smile still inevitably takes over Yaz's face every time the Doctor winks or shouts or laughs or does _anything_ for that matter. And even right here, right now, on this magical Christmas planet where things don’t make sense and they don’t know why they’re here, she finds herself starting to forget. How could she _not_ forget, when the Doctor’s rainbow scarf is blowing every which way in the wind, covering her face every now and again; when her smile is warm and inviting and _excited_ , and her eyes, ever hungry for adventure, are doing that _twinkly_ thing. Yaz’s knees never fail to turn to jelly whenever they do the _twinkly_ thing.

A few minutes later and Yaz and Ryan reach the top of the hill, where the Doctor has been waiting rather (im)patiently. Graham seems to have a bit of trouble with the last couple of steps, so the Doctor steps down and helps him make it up the last bit. Always with a smile, with a laugh.  _She’s a kind person_ , Yaz thinks for about the hundredth time since they’ve met; _kind and lovely and funny and smart—_ so _bloody smart—and—_

“Blimey." Graham clutches at his knees, trying to catch his breath. “That was some hill.”

“What do you suppose this place is?” Yaz muses as they approach the quaint little village. It’s eerily quiet, save for the distant sound of a piano being played and the lightest howling of the wind.

“I have absolutely no idea,” the Doctor says, brows knitted in concentration as she pulls out her sonic. “But I’m determined to find out.”

“It looks like some sorta _Christmas_ village, don't it?” Graham says cheerfully as he takes a look around. “Like something out of a fairy tale or a _Dickens_ novel.”

He’s right—that’s _exactly_ what it looks like. It’s beautiful, yes, and quite enchanting, but it’s also starting to give Yaz the _creeps_. For one, everything is just so… _still_ and quiet and untouched and perfect, save for the soft tune being played somewhere in the distance. The song sounds awfully familiar, too—so _, so_ familiar that it’s name is dancing on the tip of Yaz’s tongue, but she just can’t quite put her _finger_ on it.

“Alright, so if this is an alien planet, how is it they have so much Christmas stuff, huh?” Ryan says, peering into one of the shops. “Christmas is an Earth holiday and we’re nowhere near Earth right now.”

“Well, maybe this planet is occupied by humans,” Graham takes a stab at a guess. “Like a deep space colony or something. Doc?”

“You’re getting the hang of it, Graham, but no—humans never make it this far out. Besides, this planet shouldn't even _be_ here, remember?” The Doctor looks more than a bit curious, and seems visibly unhappy with whatever readings she's getting from her sonic. She shakes it a few times, as though it's not behaving in the way she's expecting. “No, this planet is definitely _alien_. I suppose it’s possible that the people on this planet have simply developed a culture similar to humans and that’s why they have a similar holiday, but if _that’s_ the case, then why do I recognize that _tune_?” She stops in her tracks and listens for a moment. The piano music sounds closer now, echoing through the hills. “Do you hear that? I _know_ that song. It’s a _Christmas_ song. It’s an Earth Christmas song, and the name is right on the tip of my _tongue_ —”

“ _God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen_ ,” Graham offers, with a smile. “An oldie, but a goodie.”

“Yes, that’s it!” The Doctor jumps up and down in excitement. “Thank you, Graham, and remind me never to play _Trivial Pursuit_ against you, alright? Now, how could someone on a planet over _two million_ light years from Earth in the forty-second century _possibly_ be playing a nineteenth century Earth Christmas tune?”

“I don't know, but it's starting to give me the willies,” Ryan says, as he observes a large plastic reindeer alongside a giant life sized Santa Claus, next to one of the shops. The grin on the Santa's face looks rather maniacal, like one of those killer clowns or something. It sends a shiver down Yaz’s spine.

“Maybe we should follow the music and see where it leads?” Yaz suggests, digging her hands nervously into her pockets. “Whoever’s playing that tune might be able to tell us what’s going on around here.”

“I like the way you think, Yaz,” the Doctor beams, and locks their arms together, pulling her close. She gives her a wink. “I like the way you think.”

The touch makes Yaz’s heart skip a beat. It always does. But all she does is nod and quickly push it down. _The Doctor is a woman_ , she reminds herself. _An **alien** woman_. _And Mum would never approve of that—or would she?_

But pushing it down is harder than it sounds because all the reasons Yaz has to push them down are so easy to forget. And then the Doctor smiles at her, so warm and full of life, and gives Yaz’s arm a squeeze, managing to make her forget, once again.

 

* * *

 

“A piano that plays itself,” Ryan says, as they approach what appears to be some kind of town centre. “Because that’s not creepy at all.”

There is, indeed, a giant player piano, now playing _Angels We Have Heard On High_ all by itself, in front of a large ice skating rink. The rink’s ice has no scratch marks on it’s surface, however, indicating that it’s most likely never been skated on. _Curious_. Why have an ice skating rink with no skaters to use it? An evergreen tree sits in it’s center, adorned with more Christmas lights and shiny balls and silver and gold garland than Yaz has ever seen in her life. It looks almost like a painting, and Yaz is starting to wonder what it’s all for, what it all means, why it's all here. She just hopes the Doctor can figure it out, and soon - because, as beautiful as this planet is, it’s starting to freak her out a little. Her and everyone else.

“Everything seems perfect, don’t it?” Graham asks as they approach the piano. “It’s like they pulled this planet out of one of those old timey Christmas movies or something.”

“It’s a little _too_ perfect, if you ask me,” the Doctor warns, as she scans the piano with her sonic, brow crinkled in concentration. She shakes it again, banging it against her thigh, still seeming highly unsatisfied with whatever readings she's getting. “And I’ve learned from experience that you can never trust perfect. It’s _always_ too good to be true.”

“Besides, where are all the people?” Yaz glances around at all of the quaint little shops and the bakeries and the houses—all empty. It’s all still— _too_ still—and silent and serene, save for the music coming from the piano. “I mean, why have all this Christmas stuff if there aren’t any people around to _enjoy_ it? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I think I have a theory," the Doctor sighs, as she pops her sonic back into her jacket. “But you’re not going to like it.”

Yaz’s blood runs cold. The Doctor’s face is lined with worry now and there’s no trace left of the twinkle that had been dancing over her eyes just moments before. “What is it, Doctor?”

“No matter what I scan, the sonic only detects _photons_. Whether I scan the snow or the buildings or the piano—they’re all made up of _photons_ , but how can that be? An entire planet can’t _possibly_ be made up of nothing but photons. It’s simply not possible. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Um, sorry to interrupt,” says Ryan; “but what’s a photon?”

“A photon is a tiny particle of light," she explains, running a slow hand over the wall of a nearby building. "They’re used to create a vast number of technologies, the most common one being—", the Doctor pauses a moment, and bites down on her lip; “ _holograms_.”

“Holograms?” Graham’s eyes bug out and it takes him a moment to comprehend the theory. “You’re telling me that this entire planet is—is made up of _holograms_?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” The Doctor lets out a deep breath and looks around. “Everything around us is a nothing more than a holographic projection: the snow, the trees, the lights, the piano—everything.”

“So, you’re saying none of this is real?” Yaz gasps, bewildered, as she gazes around. “That it’s all just… made up of light?”

“Light particles and force fields,” the Doctor says, squinting her eyes in thought as she takes a look at the scenery. “It’s very convincing, isn’t it? A work of photonic art. Which means that whoever created this planet has gone out of his or her way to make it seem as real as possible. But the question is: who built it and why?”

“I still can’t believe none of this is real." Graham shakes his head. “I mean, look at this piano—I can _touch_ it, for Pete’s sake.” As he runs a hand over the player piano, the music slows down a little, then turns off-key and flat before eventually stopping altogether. “That’s odd, isn’t it? I touched the keys and it stopped playing.”

“Great,” Ryan deadpans, stepping back from the piano. “Now it's gotten even more creepy.”

“Let’s get out of here,” the Doctor says seriously, motioning for the group to follow her back to the TARDIS. “I need to get these readings into the TARDIS if we’re going to have any chance in Hell at sorting this out.”

As they walk back down the trail, in pursuit of the TARDIS, a prickling, uneasy sensation begins to crawl over Yaz’s skin. Feeling almost as though she's being followed, she whips around to investigate. It takes a moment of searching around, but she eventually spots several life-sized gingerbread men standing a bit lower on the hill, in the middle of the trail they'd just come down. Yaz’s stomach instantly sours.

“Doctor,” Yaz says, and reaches out to stop the Doctor in her tracks. The blonde woman turns around, the lights of her eyes dimming even more as they set sight on the gingerbread at the top of the hill. “Please— _please_ tell me those were there this whole time and I just sort of… missed ‘em?”

“I could tell you that,” the Doctor says, spreading out her arms out over her companions, to protect them, as she inches them all backward, keeping her eyes firmly trained on the gingerbread in question; “but that wouldn’t make it true.”

“What’s going on?” Ryan asks, but when his eyes drift up and catch sight of the gingerbread men, he swallows so hard that Yaz can hear it. “Great. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any creepier.”

“Do you think they’re dangerous, Doc?” Graham asks. “Maybe they’re just… curious about us or something.”

“It’s possible,” the Doctor says, but quickens her backwards pace towards the TARDIS, regardless. “But if I had to guess, it’s that they probably don’t want us to be leaving this planet just yet.”

With that, the gingerbread men come suddenly alive and start running down the hill, chasing after them. It's as though they somehow _heard_ the Doctor. This is all getting so unbelievably  _creepy_. The Doctor yells at the group to run as fast as they can, to make a break for it. As they dash down the hill towards the TARDIS, Yaz can hear a sort of eerie laughter coming from behind her, from the pursuing bread. It sounds almost like the distant laughing of children playing in the snow.

The Doctor grabs Yaz by the hand, pulling her as fast as possible through the snow. Ryan and Graham are close behind. They can run faster than the gingerbread men, it would seem, but when they finally get close enough to where they can finally see the blue police box far off in the distance, an avalanche comes out of nowhere, blocking their path. No one gets hurt, thank goodness, but it’s enough to thwart their plans. They have no choice now but to run around the mountain of snow, despite that it’s significantly out of the way. Yaz peeks behind her to find that the gingerbread men are still chasing after them, closing in on their position. Their red cookie mouths are turned slightly upwards, grinning, molasses drooling down from their lips and running down their chins. Yaz sure has seen a lot of strange things during her time with the Doctor, but killer holographic gingerbread men with molasses for drool has  _got_ to take the cake.

They make it around the avalanche, but now the TARDIS is nowhere to be seen. Instead, another peculiar looking village has appeared in place of the snowy bank, this one even more beautiful than the last.

“How is this even possible?” Yaz gasps for breath as their running comes to a stop. “It was here, right here, just a few minutes ago. I _know_ it was. I _saw_ it.”

“It still is,” the Doctor says, placing a hand to Yaz’s shoulder; “but we’re trapped inside a holographic projection, remember? All of this is an illusion being controlled by some kind of computer, by a program. That means it can change and adapt to try and trick us. No, the TARDIS is still here, in the same spot it’s always been. The program’s just trying it’s hardest make sure we don’t find it.”

The Doctor thinks for a moment, tapping a finger to her chin.

"Alright, move back, fam. I’m gonna try something.” She aims her sonic down at the snow—well, the holographic snow—and it _melts_. “Excellent!” The Doctor beams, looking pleased at this result, and twirls the sonic around her fingers.

"Why's it excellent?" Yaz asks, looking down at the puddle of water.

“Because now we know that everything in this holographic projection reacts as though it would in the physical world. The holographic snow melts, which means,” she says, as she aims her sonic towards the gingerbread men, who are still scampering towards them, practically foaming at the mouths; “holographic gingerbread can _burn_.” She sets her sonic to emit some sort of energy burst, instantly vaporizing the six or seven gingerbreads that had been coming after them. They turn black, then to dust. “There. That oughta buy us some time.”

“What do we do now?” Yaz asks, the sour feeling in her stomach lightening up only a little. Those gingerbread might have been dealt with for now, but the eerie laughter of children can be heard far off in the distance—which means there’s more where that came from. "I mean, we can't just keep outrunning them."

“We might not be able to outrun them,” the Doctor says, walking up to one of the village houses and peering inside a window. “But maybe we can outsmart them. Everything on this planet is holographic, right? Which means there _must_ be some sort of control panel or power source making it all possible, controlling it, the only problem is—“

Yaz watches on as the Doctor paces back and forth, tapping her chin, exploding with energy, shouting ideas and formulating plans. Yaz loves watching the Doctor like this, in her element. She could honestly listen to the Doctor go on about science all day. The way the Doctor works through a problem, energetic and methodical, is both funny and soothing—and, dare she say, _sexy._  Brains are certainly sexy, at least as far as Yaz is concerned, and the Doctor sure has a lot of them.

“If we can find the central computer core controlling these holograms, maybe we can _alter_ their programming to make them non-violent,” the Doctor says, as she whips her sonic back out of her jacket. “Let me just adjust the sonic to detect heavy concentrations of photonic energy and we’ll be on our way.”

 

* * *

 

It takes them an hour, but they eventually find the central computer core. Thankfully, after some finagling with the computer, and some muttered curses thrown in, the Doctor manages to turn all of the hungry gingerbread men back into lifeless cookies and re-locate the lost TARDIS. It's been an adventure for sure, but it would seem as though this particular adventure is coming to an end. No matter, a new one will begin soon enough, Yaz thinks with a smile. But it's soon to be Christmas back in Sheffield, England and Yaz and the group want to take a little more time to enjoy _Planet Christmas_. Well, that's what they've named it, anyway. The Doctor did her due diligence and set up a warning booey, to warn passing spaceships of the planet's holographic nature, and made a note in the computer's maps to mark the planet's existence.

It's late now; about three o'clock in the morning, ship's time, and Yaz is sitting outside the TARDIS. She's bundled up from head to toe in her coat, hat, and scarf, her gloved hands clutching at a mug of hot cocoa. Ryan and Graham had gone off to bed and the Doctor - well, the Doctor never sleeps, so she's bound to come out at some point.

"Ah, there you are," the Doctor says as she steps out of the TARDIS a few minutes later and takes a seat next to Yaz on the steps. "Enjoying the view?"

"You could say that." Yaz smiles, and turns back down to face her hot cocoa. She's had an awful lot on her mind lately. Thoughts about what could be between her and the Doctor plague her mind, night and day. The past few months have been a whirlwind of emotions. Her and the Doctor flirt and they talk and they laugh; they stay up late, just the two of them, watching movies and eating popcorn and _laughing_. The laughing is the best part. And they've even had _the talk,_ the dating talk, but Yaz just keeps holding back. It's not that she doesn't _want_ to take a chance with the Doctor, on the Doctor. She does. She really, really does, but the Doctor is, in fact, an alien. _An alien woman_. What would her mum say about that? Nothing Yaz probably wants to hear, that's for sure.

“Ah, will you look at that,” the Doctor hums, pointing up at the roof of the TARDIS, the part that sort of hangs over the side. Yaz looks up, and smiles. It would appear as though a piece of green mistletoe has sprouted over them, most likely generated by the computer. “Holographic mistletoe. Not quite the real thing, of course, but close enough."

“Looks like the computer wants us to kiss or something,” Yaz laughs, shyly. The Doctor smiles, and leans in closer. Her eyes start twinkling again, and Yaz quickly begins to forget all about her _reasons_.

“Looks like it.” The Doctor reaches out, placing a gentle hand to Yaz’s knee. “But the question is: is that what _you_ want?”

Yaz doesn’t need much more convincing than the _look_ in the Doctor’s eyes, or the hand on her knee, to make her decision. She’ll find a way to explain it to her mum, sooner or later. She can deal with all that when she goes back home. All she wants to concern herself with now, right now, tonight, is _this_.

“I’m mostly just worried about my mum, you know,” Yaz says, honestly, bringing her knees up to her chin. “Worried about what she’ll think.”

“Your mum just wants you to be happy, Yaz," the Doctor says, warm and earnest. Her scarf blows up into her face, and her eyes twinkle again. "I'm not trying to say that I'll definitely make you happy or anything. I'm just saying that your mum - _oomph_!"

Yaz cuts her off with a kiss. It's their first, and it's the urgent kind of kiss. Passionate. Overwhelming. Infinite. It's the kind of kiss that can only come from months and months of silent longing and too many unsaid words, desires unspoken. She cups the Doctor’s cheek in her hands and deepens the kiss. The Doctor's skin feels so  _warm_ against her palm, despite the frigidness of the weather. It’s just another one of those things Yaz loves about the Doctor; the way her eyes twinkle and her skin’s always warm, and how her heart (hearts?) is even warmer than her skin, and the way she kisses back, just as passionately, with an equal amount of longing, as though she wants  _this,_ too—wants _Yaz_ —and that's enough to make Yaz forget again, if only for a time.


End file.
